And mar mens' spurring. Crack the lawyer's voice,
That he may never more falfe title plead,

Nor found his quillets fhrilly. (9) Hoar the Flamen
That fcolds against the quality of flesh,

And

(9) Hoar, &c.] Mr. Upton, plainly perceiving there was fomething wrong in this paffage, proposes to read,,

Hoarfe the Flamen.

e. make hoarfe: for to be hoary claims reverence: this, not only the poets but the fcripture teaches us: Levit. xix. 32. Thoufhalt rife up before the boary head." Add to this, that boarfe, is here moft proper, as oppofed to folds. The poet could never mean "Give the Flamen the hoary leprofy that folds; boar, in this fenfe, is fo ambiguous, that the conftruction hardly admits it, and the opposition plainly requires the other reading." See Crit. Obfervations, p. 198. Though I must confefs Mr. Upton's conjecture very ingenious, and acknowledge with him, "boar, as it ftands, can never be Shakespear's word; yet neither can I think bourfe to be fo: tho' perhaps it may feem unreasonable. in me to condemn it, without being able to offer a better in its place. But I am apt to imagine there is a word by fome means or other flipt out of the text, and wanted where I have placed the afterisk.

Nor found his quillets fhrilly. the hoar Flamen

That fcolds,,&&c.

What the word fo löft is, or how it must be fupplied, can be
only conjecture, fo that every reader will have a pleasing oppor--
tunity of trying his critical fagacity; the epithet is very proper
for the Flamen, and it feems to me, if we allow bear, there'
is none, or very little difference between what he and the lawyer
were to fuffer: it feems probable, folds in the next line, has
been misplac'd and indulging conjecture, we may at least ber
allowed to fuppofe the paffage originally stood thus;

Nor found his quillets fhrewdly. Scald the boar Flamen
That ails against the quality of the flesh,,

And not believes himself. .

Thus, that part of the Flamen, which procures him reverence, his hoary head would fuffer, and thus the punishments are varied. But this is only guefs-work; and yet in fuch cafes we have a better right to proceed in the daring work of alteration, than where an author's text is corrupt only to our feeble imagina-

tions.

“

And not believes himself. Down with with the nose,
Down with it flat; take the bridge quite away

Of him, that his particular (10) to foresee

Smells from the gen'ral weal. Make curl'd-pate ruffians
bald,

And let the unfcarr'd braggarts of the war
Derive fome pain from you.

SCENE V. Timon's Reflections on the Earth.

That nature being fick of man's unkindness,
Should yet be hungry! Common mother, thou
Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast
Teems and feeds all; oh, thou! whose self-same mettle
(Wherof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puft)
Engenders the black toad, and adder blue,
The gilded newt, and eyelefs venom'd worm;
With all the abhorred births below (11) crifp heaven,
Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth fhine;
Yield him, who all thy human fons doth hate,
From forth thy plenteous bofom, one poor root!
Enfear thy fertile and conceptious womb;
Let it no more bring out ingrateful man.
Go great with tygers, dragons, wolves, and bears,
Teem with new monfters, whom thy upward face
Hath to the marbled manfion all above

Never prefented-O, a root-dear thanks!

(12) Dry up thy marrows, veins, and plough-torn leas, Whereof

(10) To forefce.] As men by forefacing, provide for, and take care of their affairs, Shakespear ufes the word in that fenfe, "of him that to forefee, [provide for and fee after] his own particular advantage, &c."

(r1) Crifp-crifpus, crispatus, curled; alluding to the clouds, that appear curled, and to which he gives that epithet in the Tempeft.

To ride

On the curled clouds.

(12) Dry up.] Mr. Warburton reads here. Dry up thy barrow'd veins, and plough-torn leas: and the Oxford editor.

Dry

Whereof ingrateful man with liq'rish draughts,
And morfels unctuous, greafes his pure mind,
That from it all confideration flips.

Timon's Difcourfe with Apemantus.
Apem. This is in thee a nature but affected,
A poor unmanly melancholy, fprung

From change of fortune. Why this fpade? this place ?
This flave-like habit, and these looks of care?

Thy flatt'rers yet wear filk, drink wine, lie foft;
Hug their difeas'd perfumes, and have forgot
That ever Timon was. Shame not thefe (13) weeds,
By putting on the cunning of a carper.

Be thou a flatt'rer now, and seek to thrive
By that which hath undone thee; hinge thy knee,
And let his very breath whom thou'lt obferve
Blow off thy cap; praise his moít vicious ftrain,
And call it excellent. Thou waft told thus :
Thou gav'ft thine ears, like tapfters, that bid welcome
To knaves and all approachers: 'tis moft juft
That thou turn rafcal: hadft thou wealth again,
Rafcals fhould hav't. Do not affume my likeness.
Tim. Were I like thee, I'd throw away myfelf.
Apem. Thou'ft caft away thyfelf, being like thyself,
So long a madman, now a fool. What, think'ft thou
That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain,
Will put thy fhirt on warm? will these (14) moss'd trees
That

Dry up thy meadows, vineyards, plough-torn leás. The Oxford editor has fome ground for his criticism, for I find in the folio, marrows, vines, &c. and for Mr. Warburton's, there is indeed fomething to be faid, tho' he muft obferve, the metaphor is not kept up by his alteration (for 'tis to keep up the metaphor he alters) except another flight emendation be made of kas into limbs!

(13) Weeds.] This was woods, till altered by Mr. Warburton: we may obferve, Apimantus frequently reproaches Timon with his change of garb.

That have out-liv'd the eagle, page thy heels,
And skip when thou point it out? will the cold brook,
Candied with ice, cawdle thy morning taste

To cure thy o'er-night's furfeit ?

Call the creatures,

Whose naked natures live in all the spight

Of wreakful heav'n, whose bare unhoufed trunks,
To the conflicting elements expos'd,

Answer mere nature; bid them flatter thee:
Oh! thou fhalt find-

Tim. Thou art a flave, whom fortune's tender arm
With favour never clafp'd; but bred a dog.
Hadft thou, like us, from our firft fwath proceeded
Through fweet degrees that this brief world affords,
To fuch, as may the paffive drugs of it

Freely command; thou wouldst have plung'd thy felf
In general riot, melted down thy youth
In different beds of luft, and never learn'd
The icy precepts of respect, but followed
The fugar'd game before thee. But myself,
Who had the world as my confectionary,

The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, the hearts of mea
At duty more than I could frame employments;
That numberless upon me ftuck, as leaves

Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush
Fall'n from their boughs, and left me open, bare
For every ftorm that blows. I to bear this,
That never knew but better, is fome burthen:
Thy nature did commence in fuff'rance ; time
Hath made thee hard in't. Why fhouldst thou hate men?
They never flatter'd thee. What haft thou giv'n ?
If thou wilt curfe thy father, that poor rag
Must be thy fubject; who in spight put stuff
To fome fhe-beggar, and compounded thee
Poor rogue hereditary. Hence! begone
If thou hadst not been born the worst of men,
Thou hadst been knave and flatterer.

On Gold.

O, thou sweet king-killer and dear divorce

'Twixt natural fon and fire! thou bright defiler
Of Hymen's pureft bed! thou valiant Mars!
Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd and delicate wooer,
(15) Whofe blush doth thaw the confecrated fnow,
That lies on Dian's lap! thou visible god,
That fouldreft clofe impoffibilities,

And mak'ft them kifs! that speak'st with every tongue,
To every purpofe! Oh, thou touch of hearts!
Think, thy flave man rebels; and by thy virtue
Set them into confounding odds, that beasts
May have the world in empire.

SCENE VII. Timon to the Thieves.

Why fhould you want? behold the earth hath roots;
Within this mile break forth an hundred fprings;
The oaks bear masts, the briers fcarlet hips:

The bounteous hufwife nature on each bush
Lays her full mefs before you. Want? why want?
i Thief. We cannot live on grafs, on berries, water,
As beafts, and birds, and fishes.

Tim. Nor on the beafts themselves, the birds and fishes:
You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con,
That you are thieves profeft; that you work not
In holier fhapes: for there is boundless theft

In limited profeffions. Rafcals, thieves,

Here's gold.

Go, fuck the subtle blood o' th' grape, Till the high fever seeth your blood to froth,

And fo 'fcape hanging. Truft not the physician,

His antidotes are poifon, and he flays

More than you rob; (16) takes wealth and life together: Do villany, do, fince you profefs to do't,

Like workmen; I'll example you with thievery.

The

(15) Whose blush, &c.] The imagery here is exquifitely beau tiful and fublime; and that ftill heightened by allufion to a fable and cuftom of antiquity, viz. the ftory of Danae and the golden fhower; and the ufe of confecrating to a god or goddefs, that which, from a fimilarity of nature, they were fuppofed to hold in efteem. Warburton.

(16) Takes wealth and life together; Oxford edit. vul. Take wealth and live together.